


Sunshine Child

by butterflyslinky



Series: The House of Wayne-El [1]
Category: DCU
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 01:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: One disastrous college relationship can lead to great sorrow...but also great joy.





	Sunshine Child

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a very dumb dream I had where it occurred to me that there is no reason that Kryptonian biology would be anything like Terran biology. This is stupid and I'm ashamed I wrote it. Plays very fast and loose with the DC timeline. Mostly unbeta-ed.

Clark didn’t know what he had expected in Gotham, but Bruce Wayne wasn’t it.

He had never met anyone so handsome, so righteous, and yet so distant. But in spite of that distance, Clark was drawn to him from the moment they met. Something about Bruce fascinated him, and that fascination quickly turned into what Clark had to admit was a pretty strong crush.

Finding out that Bruce was Batman was only the icing on the cake.

They were young, and foolish, both eighteen years old, in their first year at Gotham University, just starting out as superheroes. But they worked well together, both in and out of uniform, saving the world or studying or just being friends. Both were lonely, and distant, and it was no wonder they turned into something more than friends. Something about them just…worked.

It wasn’t perfect, of course. They both had hangups. Bruce was still emotionally distant, even as the relationship grew. Clark had a hard time reading him, found it difficult to break through the mask to the man underneath. And Clark…well, being raised in Kansas wasn’t exactly conducive to being able to carry on an affair with anyone, let alone another man, let alone someone as distant and angry as Bruce Wayne. Clark had no idea what to do with him, really. Love him, sure. Support him, absolutely. Give him what he needed…

Well, what Bruce needed was someone to take his frustrations out on after a battle. Someone who wouldn’t be hurt, no matter how frustrated he got. Someone who would keep going all night, even after a long night of patrol. Someone to fall into bed with at five in the morning and use the rest of his pent-up aggression.

Clark could be that person, easily. The only problem was, he had no experience beyond the usual abstinence-only education he’d received in school. Quite frankly, Clark was terrified of sex, and not only because of the scare tactics he’d received in Kansas.

But this was Bruce, and Clark wanted to help him, take care of him in any way he could. And it wasn’t like Bruce didn’t know he was an alien—Bruce probably knew more about Kryptonian biology from a few months of observation than Clark knew from a lifetime of living with it. But there was a difference between figuring out which drugs Clark was immune to and…this.

Still, he had to face it sometime, so two weeks into their romance, after a particularly grueling patrol, Clark forced himself not to flinch away when Bruce pulled off his cowl and kissed him, hard and deep. He allowed Bruce to lie him down on the thin dormitory mattress, let him unzip his uniform and pull it to his waist, before Clark stopped him with a hand over his.

“Clark?” Bruce asked, a note of concern in his voice.

Clark took a shuddering breath. “I…I ain’t like you,” he mumbled, his accent slipping in the heat of the moment. He could feel himself blushing. “Y’know…down there.”

Bruce blinked. “I didn’t expect you would be,” he said. “So are you…normal for your people?”

“I dunno,” Clark said. “I ain’t ever met any of my people.”

“I like to think I can work with whatever I’m giving,” Bruce said. “If you want me to.”

Clark hesitated, then nodded and allowed Bruce to finish pulling off his uniform. He blushed more and closed his eyes as the cloth was pulled away and Bruce gently parted his legs.

“Well,” Bruce said. “You’re not too different…I mean…I think I can figure it all out.” He glanced up, half-smirking. “But I do have to ask…do you actually identify as male?”

Clark shrugged. “My parents didn’t really know what t’make of it,” he said. “So…they jist sorta assumed I was male and raised me as a boy…and of course people love the Superman name, so…”

Bruce kissed him to stop him babbling. “If you say you’re a man, I believe you,” he said. “You just happened to come with a few extra parts…nothing wrong with that at all.” He moved down, kissing along Clark’s jaw and down his neck. “But I might not know exactly what you want, so make sure to tell me what I’m doing right…or wrong.”

Clark nodded. “I…I dunno what…” The blush was spreading over his chest now. “I mean, I did, y’know…figger a few things out, but…”

“Relax,” Bruce said. “I’ll probably look just as alien to you as you do to me…but really, it’s all fairly easy to figure out…I mean, I’m assuming the basics are the same for both of us.”

“I suppose,” Clark said. “It’s mostly jist a matter of pickin’ which, um…which hole to…”

“Exactly,” Bruce said. “Which is why I need you to tell me what feels good…so I don’t pick the wrong one.” He moved down, kissing a line down Clark’s chest before he stopped between his legs. “But I think I should figure out what all of these delightful things do without my cock involved.”

Clark didn’t have time to reply before Bruce’s mouth was on him, exploring him, tongue sliding between crevices and over peaks. Clark whined, his body warm and not entirely from embarrassment. He had learned a few things with his hands, but this…this was so much better.

After a few minutes, Bruce pulled back, looking at him. “I’m not sure what it looks like when you cum,” he said.

“It…it’s pretty obvious,” Clark mumbled. He was breathing hard, trembling a little. “I really want y’t’fuck me, though…here.” He pointed.

Bruce nodded and started pulling off the rest of his uniform. Clark watched in wonder as hard lines of muscle were revealed—Bruce was still filling out from his adolescence, but that didn’t hide the beauty and power behind the suit. Clark swallowed, the heat rising as Bruce laid himself over him, pressing skin to skin. They kissed again, both growing very aroused. Clark moved down, biting at Bruce’s neck and shoulders, worrying bruises into his skin. Bruce groaned, his teeth scraping over Clark’s jaw without leaving any sign they had ever been there.

“You sure?” he gasped.

“Yes,” Clark hissed. “I can already feel it…please…I need it.”

Bruce didn’t need any more encouragement.

*

The relationship lasted five weeks. Five weeks of trying to love each other. Five weeks of trying to support each other’s bad moods and emotional issues. Three weeks of almost nightly sex, exploring each other’s bodies and marveling at the differences between them.

In the end, Clark wasn’t surprised it ended the way it did. If he was honest, neither of them had really been ready for a relationship. They both came with a lot of baggage to begin with, and being superheroes together, sleeping together…

It was all too much. And while Clark wanted to blame it all on Bruce’s inability to open up, part of him knew it was also that he pushed too hard, tried to break Bruce’s walls before he should have. And while he still loved Bruce, in a way, he had to admit that romantically, they didn’t work well together.

He told Bruce as much, said that if he ever needed Superman, he would be there. And Bruce agreed, and promised Batman would be there as well. Clark put in for a transfer to KU, already tired of all the professors at Gotham being completely insane, and returned to Smallville, thinking that would be the end of it.

He didn’t realize what was happening at first; after all, it wasn’t like he had any context for it. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t really know how his own body worked; he knew he was different from humans, and his parents had always been too afraid of him being discovered to ever take him to a doctor. He hadn’t even realized it was possible; he certainly wasn’t looking for the signs.

But then he grew lethargic. He went from nauseas to starving in the span of seconds. He felt himself gaining weight, found he was heavier when he flew. At first, Clark could ignore it, brush off the little things like nothing was wrong. But as time went on, he began to feel that something was wrong, and he had no idea what.

It wasn’t like there was anyone he could ask. The only people who knew he wasn’t human were his parents and Bruce. His parents were wonderful, but they weren’t doctors. And Bruce…

They had promised to help each other, but it was meant in terms of superheroing. Bruce could probably figure out what was wrong and have a cure made in minutes, but Clark couldn’t bring himself to go back to Gotham and beg for Bruce’s help. Maybe it was pride, maybe he was just bitter over the breakup, but he wouldn’t go to Bruce.

That left Clark very little choice but to ignore whatever it was and hope it went away on its own. And to be fair, the nausea stopped after a few months, though his hunger didn’t. The weight gain was starting to be more obvious, and several people at KU poked fun at him for getting his Freshman Fifteen a bit late.

“Honestly,” one of his friends snarked over dinner one night. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were pregnant.”

Clark stopped, his mind whirling. He wasn’t sure what was and wasn’t possible for people of his species, whether he was compatible with humans, whether male and female was the same on Krypton as it was on Earth…it wasn’t like he and Bruce had ever stopped to worry about protection.

“I need to go,” he mumbled, and rushed out of the dining hall.

Once he was back in his dorm, Clark leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and thinking hard. He didn’t know if it was possible, but he didn’t know that it wasn’t, either. But now that it had been said, now that the idea was in his head…it was both thrilling and terrifying.

There was nothing else for it. He either needed to find a human doctor who could keep his mouth shut, or he was just going to have to disappear for the next six months and see what happened—he very much doubted that a drug store pregnancy test would be effective on him.

The Fortress, then. It was quiet, no one would notice his condition, and while there was no one there to help him, well, Clark had gotten used to helping himself. And if it was true, if a baby was born that winter…

Clark squeezed his eyes shut, fighting tears. He couldn’t raise a child. He was barely nineteen years old, and he was a superhero—any child he had would be in danger. And that was assuming that it survived with half-alien biology at all. Clark had no money, either. He knew his parents would help, might even be thrilled about it, but Clark worried they might also be disgusted, or disappointed in him for being so reckless as to share his secret with someone else. And Bruce…

Even now, he couldn’t go to Bruce. What would he even say if Clark turned up on his doorstep claiming to be pregnant? Even if Bruce believed him, they weren’t together. Bruce might see it as manipulation, a ploy to get back together or just get some of his money. Clark couldn’t do that to him. Even now, he didn’t want Bruce to hate him.

Well. Plenty of time to decide what to do with a baby if one ever arrived. Clark turned and went down to the registrar to fill out a withdrawal. He would leave that weekend, make up some story about a family emergency, and disappear to the Fortress of Solitude. After that, there was nothing he could do but wait.

*

The Fortress of Solitude had never lived up to its name quite so well.

Before, it was a nice place, a refuge for when the world was too loud, when people were too terrible, when Clark felt too disconnected from them. But now, being here alone, unsure of what sort of burden he was carrying…

The silence surrounded him, suffocated him. He had a boombox with him, so he blasted music most of the time, drowning out the noise of the outside world. He moved through his days in a dream—it was summer in Antarctica, the sun permanently in the sky. His powers were as strong as ever, but Clark didn’t go out superheroing right now. If this was a baby, a viable baby, he wouldn’t risk it.

Instead, he simply puttered about the Fortress, reading the computer files his father had sent with him when he was launched off of Krypton. They didn’t say too much about reproductive biology—as far as Clark could tell, all the children of Krypton were artificially created except for him. Which was not helpful to his current predicament at all.

As the months went on, his stomach grew, a faint movement under his skin that increased with every passing week. It was more than enough to confirm his fears.

And he was afraid. He had no idea if he was doing the right things for this child, if the sunlight that normally sustained him was enough for a healthy birth, what exercises and nutrition he needed, what he could expect from this. Oh, he read everything he could find about human pregnancies and did his best to follow the advice given, but he didn’t know if it was good for him or his baby. He didn’t know how he was going to get through the birth itself on his own.

And he still didn’t know what he was going to do with the baby once it did come. Keep it? Raise it as his own and hope no one asked too many questions? Dump it on Bruce’s doorstep like a bad fairy tale and hope that Bruce was willing to care for it? Leave it with his parents and live his own life?

None of the options were very appealing. Oh, Clark would love to keep his baby, raise it like a normal person. But that wasn’t possible. Even if Clark gave up being Superman, found a good job and did his absolute best for his child, something would happen. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop being Superman for too long without Bruce noticing and coming to see what was wrong. Already, in the moments Clark stepped outside, he could hear Batman’s calls for him, asking him where he was, why wasn’t he helping defend the world? And Clark…well, he could have gone back right then and shown Bruce exactly what was wrong, but that wouldn’t be very productive.

Thought it was nice to know Bruce still cared.

Clark rather lost track of time at the Fortress; with no sunsets to mark the days, the only measurement he had was his ever-increasing waist size. He’d done his best to have a healthy pregnancy, with what resources he had available, and he only hoped it would be enough. Whatever happened, he wanted his baby to be healthy.

He supposed it was February, possibly March—the sun was starting to set, just a little, a sign that winter was coming for Antarctica. The pains started in the middle of once against listlessly going through pregnancy articles on the Fortress computer. Clark barely made it to the bed, agony that he’d never known ripping through his body. He didn’t know how anyone managed it—then again, most people had a doctor or a midwife or…someone to help, at least, instead of attempting to time their own contractions and figure out what to do with no instruction or medical knowledge.

It took hours, hours of pain and blood and Clark was very glad that the Fortress was soundproof or else there would be several concerned researchers looking for the source of his screaming. But at last, it ended, and there was a tiny, wailing baby boy in Clark’s arms. He wrapped the child in his cape with shaking hands, exhausted and hurting, but something deep in his chest felt joy, and peace, and love for the bundle in his arms.

Clark looked at his son, and the tears started. He couldn’t keep him, couldn’t subject his child to the life of Superman’s son. Not when Clark was so young and uncertain himself.

In a few weeks, then, when the baby was strong enough to be left with someone else. In a few weeks, Clark would find a better place for him, a place where he could grow up normal and loved like he had.

In a few weeks. But not then.

*

Two months was probably too long to wait. But Clark couldn’t stand the thought of leaving his child before that, was worried that the baby—he adamantly refused to give him a name—wouldn’t grow strong enough without his constant care and attention. Clark was probably more concerned than most parents, not knowing what half-Kryptonian biology meant for his child. He worried that the formula he’d synthesized in the lab was wrong, that the meager medical care he could provide was wrong, that everything he did was wrong.

But the baby grew, and seemed healthy and normal enough. He was a cheerful child, hardly crying and very wide-eyed and curious. Clark couldn’t be sure, but the baby seemed intelligent, almost like he knew what Clark was doing at all times. And every time Clark put him down, the child looked at him in resentment, almost as if he knew that Clark wouldn’t keep him.

Clark wanted to keep him. But he knew he couldn’t, and that with every passing day it would just get harder and harder to give him up. So after two months—the sunsets were somewhat regular now, it would be spring back in America—Clark wrapped his child in a bundle of blankets and secured him in a makeshift harness before flying off. He didn’t know exactly where he would leave the baby, who he could trust, who would love him as a miracle and not turn him over to those who would do him harm.

He stayed high above the clouds, listening, searching. Clark liked to think he could get the measure of a person by their words, though he knew it was a risk. Still, he was Superman. He could keep an ear out for his baby, know what was happening, and if he was harmed, he could be there in a moment to whisk him away again.

He listened, over cities, out on farms, searching for someone who would take the baby, who could care for him. He heard many loving families, heard several people wish for children, but none of them felt right to him. He knew he was stalling, that he was being picky, but…well, his son deserved that, didn’t he?

The sun was starting to set when Clark was forced to admit that maybe his standards were too high. At least he had the luxury of choosing who his child went to—his parents couldn’t have been sure he’d even survive travelling through space. He was fortunate that he’d landed where he did, with good people who cared for him.

He huffed a little, looking down at the baby. He had slept peacefully through the entire flight, but now he was awake, watching Clark reproachfully. Clark felt his heart break and he knew—it was now or never.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I can’t be what you need.”

He was passing an open space when he heard it—a woman crying, and a man comforting her. He concentrated on them, on what they were saying.

“I just…I don’t know how to handle it, Jon,” she was saying. “We want a baby so bad, and I can’t give you one.”

“I know, Mary,” he said. “But…we can look into other options…adopt…”

“Who’s going to adopt to us?” she asked. “Who’s going to let a child be left with a travelling circus?”

“Mary…” There was a second of silence. “You would make the best mother…I’m so sorry…”

Clark knew. He took a breath and swooped down, pinpointing the source of the conversation, a trailer in the middle of the field. He looked at his child for another moment, perhaps lingering a second too long in the silent camp before he resolutely set the baby down. The baby started wailing immediately, and Clark had to fly away. If he’d stayed for just a moment longer, he wouldn’t have been able to leave.

The tears started as he flew back to Kansas. He knew it was best, he knew that those people at the circus would look after the baby better than he could—but he hated doing it, hated himself for abandoning his child, hated Bruce for putting him in this position…

But it was done now. He was still listening to them as the door opened, as the woman let out a startled cry, as the man swore it was a miracle from God. He heard the baby wailing, even as the woman rushed to care for him, heard their ecstatic words, heard them give the child a name.

Richard Grayson. It was a lovely name, well-suited to the tiny child. Better than anything Bruce or Clark could give him. Clark flew back to his parents’ loft and sat down, listening, picking out Richard’s heartbeat and memorizing the sound. For now, it was faint and fluttery, but it would get stronger. And Clark would hear it as it did.

*

His parents were happy to have him home, though a bit concerned. Clark only told them he’d had to do something as Superman that took a long time, that he would go back to KU in the fall and start over. They accepted that, though his mother kept frowning in his direction; she knew something was wrong, even if she couldn’t begin to guess what.

Clark went back to his superheroing, small crimes mostly, simple cases that didn’t require much thought on his part. People seemed glad to have Superman back, and if Clark was honest, being able to go out and fight crime eased some of the pain in his heart. He avoided Gotham; he trusted Batman to look after it.

But then, late in the spring, nearly a year after he and Bruce had broken up, he heard it—a faint whisper from that direction. “Clark…I need you.”

He went, of course. He’d never be able to ignore that plea, no matter how much it hurt.

Batman was waiting for him at the top of the clocktower. Clark landed in front of him, feeling very guilty as he looked at Bruce.

They stared at each other for a while before Bruce spoke. “You don’t look well.”

Clark wanted to cry. Of course Bruce would notice something was wrong. Of course Bruce would realize that Clark wasn’t okay. Even if Clark had been better at hiding his emotions, Bruce was too clever to be fooled.

“I’m all right,” Clark mumbled.

“You vanished for eight months,” Bruce said. “Superman just dropped off the face of the Earth…you know how many people died because you weren’t there?”

“I didn’t realize it was my job to save everyone,” Clark snapped.

“Where were you?”

“I was busy,” Clark said. “Personal matter.”

“For eight months?” Bruce spat. “I know you dropped out of KU…I went there to look for you and was told you just up and left. I went to your parents’ house and they said they hadn’t heard anything. And I know you weren’t on a long-term mission because I would have heard if anything big had happened that Superman stopped.”

“I just…I needed time to myself,” Clark said. “Time to get myself together after…after everything.”

He couldn’t see under the cowl, but Clark knew Bruce had rolled his eyes. “What, five weeks and you’re emotionally devastated for eight months? I knew you were a drama queen, but that’s ridiculous.”

“What do you want, Batman?” Clark snapped. “If you were just worried about me, I’ve been back in Smallville since April.”

Bruce didn’t answer. He glared at Clark for a moment before he tossed his grappling hook and leaped off the roof. Clark glared after him, but didn’t follow.

It was just as well. If they’d kept going like that much longer, the whole story would have come out, and Clark didn’t like to think what Bruce would do if he ever found out what he’d done.

*

Years passed. Clark finished school at KU and moved to Metropolis, reporting on crime and courts for the Daily Planet. He worked as Superman at every opportunity, keeping the city safe from threats big or small. It was almost enough to sooth his guilt.

He listened every night, when Metropolis was quiet. He heard Richard—Dicky, as his parents called him. He listened to the boy grow up, heard his first words, listened to him learn the trade of an acrobat. Clark smiled over every achievement he could hear, the praise and cheers from Jon and Mary. A few times, Haley’s Circus arrived in Metropolis, and Clark was always there, just part of the crowd, watching from a distance. He knew Dicky at a glance, even from far away, a tiny, energetic child with a sunny nature and shocking quickness. Clark wondered just how many of his powers Dick had inherited, if any. Dick was too young to perform yet, so Clark couldn’t be sure.

He barely saw Bruce. They worked together now and then, when a threat was too big for either of them to handle. Their interactions were cool, professional, without so much as a hint as to their past relationship. Clark still felt the occasional twinge of guilt over not telling him about Dicky, but it quickly dissipated when he listened to the circus. Dicky was happy, and well-cared for, and very much loved by his adoptive parents. In another life, perhaps, he could have been the son of Bruce Wayne, but for now, Dicky was safe and happy. Clark didn’t know what life as Batman’s son would be like, but he had a feeling that it wouldn’t be nearly so pleasant.

And Clark…Clark was doing all right. He had a job he loved, he did good work as Superman, and he was…maybe not completely happy, but content. He started dating again, carefully avoiding any sort of physical intimacy now that he knew what the consequences could be.  Besides, he wasn’t ready to share that part of himself with anyone else. Most of his partners left, but he didn’t mind. Bruce was distant and brooding, but he did have a good point—not having close connections was easier than having to protect someone else from the life they led.

* 

Ten years had passed since Clark had abandoned Dicky on the step of a circus trailer. Ten years of fighting villains, reporting, listening to Dicky grow up without him. It wasn’t the best life Clark could imagine, but overall, it was the best one he deserved.

It was late in the fall, a night like almost any other. Clark was lying on the mattress in his apartment, listening to the circus as he always did at this hour. He could hear the Graysons as they got ready for their performance—it was Dicky’s first week joining them, and Clark was proud fit to burst. He was eagerly looking forward to when Haley’s was next in Metropolis so he could see it for himself. Clark had picked up the sound of someone arguing with the manager earlier, but he didn’t think much of it—people argued with Haley all the time.

They were in Gotham, Clark knew—he’d heard Bruce making plans to go that night the week before. Clark was briefly worried—if anyone would recognize Dicky for who he was, it was Bruce. But Bruce wouldn’t be looking too hard, wouldn’t be expecting to find his unknown child there. And even if he did suspect something, well, he’d be hard-pressed to get proof of anything.

So Clark listened, eyes closed, a small smile on his face as the ringmaster called “Ladies and gentlemen, the Flying Graysons!” He heard the music, the cheers, the sounds of wonder, Dicky’s laughter…

And then three gunshots.

Clark shot up immediately, going for his uniform. He kept his ears opened as he changed, listening to the screams, to Dicky’s cry, to the confusion…

And then he heard Bruce’s voice below it all, saying soft words. He heard as Bruce murmured comforting words…they must have been to Dicky, their heartbeats were so close together Clark could barely distinguish them. He had to hold onto that—Dicky was alive.

He heard Bruce speaking to the police and the manager as he flew towards Gotham, saying he could take Dicky, at least temporarily. And the police agreed, there was no other family, the only other option was an orphanage. Clark felt his heart clench at the words. Bruce or an orphanage—he knew which would be better, objectively, but they were his two worst fears for Dicky. How could it remain a secret for long with Bruce watching the child?

He arrived in Gotham and hovered, watching as Bruce picked Dicky up and carried him out to the waiting car. He followed, hearing Dick crying, Bruce silent and shocked. He watched as Bruce carried Dick into the house and turned him over to Alfred, saying that Dick would stay there for a while and find him a room. Clark waited, high above Gotham, wondering what he was supposed to do now.

And then he heard it, a broken, desperate whisper. “Clark, I need you.”

Well. That was all it took. Clark landed and walked up to the door. He rang the bell and waited barely a second before Bruce answered.

“You heard?” Bruce asked hoarsely.

“I was listening,” Clark said.

“You’re always listening.”

“You’re always in trouble.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Bruce stood aside. Clark followed him into the parlor, where Bruce poured the brandy with shaking hands. “Clark…what do I do?”

Clark swallowed heavily. “Care for him,” he said. “Love him, like he deserves…like he was your son.”

Bruce knocked back the brandy and poured another glass. That one he sipped, looking at Clark. Finally, he spoke again. “I watched closely,” he said. “I’ve had my eye on young Grayson for a while…tonight, he was…incredible. He almost looked like he really was flying.” He sipped at the brandy, watching Clark’s expression carefully. “And the shots…they were all perfectly aimed. Jon and Mary were both hit right in the throat…dead before they fell. And the third shot…the police say Dick was lucky it missed, but I was watching him. It hit him in the same spot…it should have killed him as well…but it bounced off.” His eyes were hard now. “And I wondered…where have I seen that before?”

Clark was silent, waiting.

“So,” Bruce said. “Either another rocket took another survivor off of Krypton…or else you’re not telling me something.”

“Bruce…”

“Ten years old,” Bruce continued. “Which would correspond with that time you vanished for months on end without a word…and come to think on it, you vanished three or four months after we…after I learned more about Kryptonians than anyone had ever known. He can practically fly…maybe he really can and just hides it well. Bullets don’t hurt him. And then, when I went to him…I saw his eyes.” He drained the brandy glass. “And I would know those eyes anywhere.”

Clark looked down, struggling, debating. Finally, he looked back at Bruce. “I didn’t do it t’hurt you,” he said, his accent slipping. “I jist…I was nineteen,” he said. “I had no money…no future. I already lived a double life as Superman...and I couldn’t ask my parents t’take him fer me, they got enough t’worry ‘bout. And Jon and Mary…they wanted a kid so bad…I heard ‘em, and I knew…I knew he’d be loved there. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“You could have told me!” Bruce said, his voice rising. “You could have come to me, and I’d have looked after you! I would have raised him…loved him…”

“Yer Batman, though,” Clark said. “And…and he deserved better than bein’ stuck in here. Believe me…I’ve seen you.”

Bruce glared at him. “You lied to me, Clark!” he shouted. “You fucking lied to me for ten years!”

“I didn’t…”

Before Bruce could open his mouth, though, the parlor door opened. Both of them turned as Dick crept in, looking extremely hurt.

“Please don’t shout,” he whispered.

Clark’s heart broke all over again. This was his son. His son, who didn’t even know where he’d come from, who was already suffering a deeper pain than anyone ever should, and now he was frightened and upset because…

Because his fathers were fighting.

Clark glanced at Bruce and read the same emotion there. Their eyes met for a moment before Bruce nodded. “I apologize, Richard,” he said.

Dicky was looking at them, blue eyes wide. He was clutching a very worn stuffed elephant and his lip was still trembling. “I heard what you were saying,” he said. “I hear all sorts of things.” He was looking between Bruce and Clark, no doubt figuring something out. “Mama and Papa told me how I was a gift from Heaven,” he said. “How they were wishing for a baby when I was left at their door.” His eyes stopped on Clark, focusing. “You left me there, didn’t you?”

Clark closed his eyes. “I didn’t want to,” he whispered. “Please believe…leavin’ you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Dicky nodded once. “I’m glad you did,” he said. “Mama and Papa loved me a lot…they found a way for me to fly without people knowing. But I always knew…I got your powers,” he finished. “I knew I was different…and I knew you were watching over me.” He was glaring now, anger fighting the tears. “Why didn’t you save them?” he asked. “Why didn’t you come and stop the bullets?”

“It was…he was too quick,” Clark said. “I didn’t realize it was happenin’ ‘til it was too late…I’m sorry, Dicky, I’m so sorry…”

Dick glared more before he turned on his heel and stormed away. Clark watched him go, following him with his eyes through the floors back to the room Alfred had made up for him.

Bruce turned back to him. “Get out,” he snapped.

“Bruce…”

“Leave, Clark. I don’t want to see you again.”

“And Dicky?”

“I think it’s best if you leave Dicky to me,” Bruce said. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? For someone else to take care of him so you can keep living your life?”

“That’s not…”

“Leave before I get the Kryptonite.”

Clark glared for a moment before he turned and flew out the French window. It was only once he’d gotten home, back to his mattress on the floor, that he allowed himself to cry.

*

Clark tried not to hover in the days after Bruce threw him out. He knew that neither Bruce nor Dick wanted him around right then, though he still listened to them with half an ear. He heard Bruce explain, in the best way he could to a ten-year-old, how Bruce and Clark had managed to produce Dick; heard Bruce swear on his parents’ graves that he had no idea until that night that Dick had ever even existed; heard Dick give Bruce his forgiveness. He was glad that Bruce and Dick were friends, and hoped they might find some solace in each other’s company, but it still hurt to know he could never be part of it.

But that had been his choice, hadn’t it? Even if he had thought it through more, given Dick to Bruce from the beginning…he couldn’t say that he would have stayed.

And now that he was older, now that he was ready to be a father, it was too late. He didn’t even try going back to Gotham to try and apologize; he very much doubted that Dick would even want to listen. And while he and Bruce had no choice but to work together on occasion, he knew that Bruce was more stubborn than any other person on Earth, and only a very great calamity would ever induce him to want to forgive Clark for this. And in truth, Clark wasn’t even sure he deserved to be forgiven.

So he stayed out of Gotham, kept an ear out in case either of them ever needed him, and went about his own life, his heart a bit heavier. It wasn’t until about six months after Dick went home with Bruce, adoption papers formalized and everyone settled into the new arrangement, that Clark even considered speaking to Bruce again.

But then he heard Dick ask if he could go along on patrol. And Bruce—stupid, reckless, lonely Bruce—agreed that he could come.

Clark was in Gotham before he had time to think about it. He hovered over the clocktower that served as Bruce’s main point of patrol, waiting.

Sure enough, Bruce grappling hooked up a few minutes later, Dick flying up behind him. He was dressed in something like his old circus costume, a mask over his eyes. Both of them paused when they saw Clark.

“What?” Bruce snapped.

“No,” Clark said. “You’re not taking him out on patrol at this age.”

“You have no right,” Bruce said. “You gave up it up ten years ago.”

“I don’t want him getting hurt.”

“He won’t be. He’s like you—he’s invulnerable. And I knew you were going to be stalking us anyway.”

“He’s…”

“Right here,” Dick snapped, and the tone of his voice and the set of his jaw left no doubt in Clark’s mind that this was Bruce Wayne’s son. “I want to do this. And you can’t stop me.”

Clark glared for another minute before he flew off. He didn’t leave Gotham, but he did watch from another rooftop as Bruce and Dick went about their business. He knew that they knew he was still there, but they ignored him.

So it went for a few weeks. Most nights were quiet, but there were times when a crime would take place and a fight would break out and it would be all Clark could do not to interfere. He knew that he was already treading on thin ice just following Batman and Dick, now known by the codename Robin. And it seemed Bruce was right—Dick was practically invulnerable, so he was never in any danger, and even if he was in trouble, Bruce would do anything to keep him safe.

Clark didn’t hear about it until a month in, when Bruce was out alone—apparently Dick was starting school and Bruce had decreed that he would only go out on weekends. Bruce went up to the clocktower and turned. “I know you’re there.”

Clark flew over and landed. “Yes?”

“You need to stop following us,” Bruce said. “He’s fine…he got your strength and speed, he’s as good a superhero as you are. He’s not going to get hurt, and you hovering isn’t doing anyone any good…if anything, you’re neglecting Metropolis and making him nervous.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Clark asked. “Not worry about my son being out here fighting crime?”

“You gave him up,” Bruce said. “You abandoned him on a doorstep…he’s not your son anymore, Clark. And you need to let him go.”

Clark turned away. “You know I regret it,” he said.

“I’m sure you do,” Bruce said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you did it.” He stepped forward, his expression softer under his cowl. “I know you thought it was for the best,” he said, his voice suddenly gentle. “But he knew the whole time…I’ve run tests and his intelligence and memory are off the charts. He remembered that you were his…I don’t know, mother, even though he was two months old when you abandoned him. He didn’t understand why, then, only that you left him with strangers and never looked back. He told me…he listened to you, sometimes, when he was growing up, and he heard you living a normal, happy life without him…for the longest time, he believed you didn’t love him and never wanted him.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

“I do know. And he knows. But it still hurt him. And it’s hurting him now that you didn’t want him but don’t trust him to be able to be a hero.” His face hardened again. “And it hurts that you don’t trust me to protect our son.”

Clark took a deep breath. “I do trust you to protect him,” he said. “But I’ve been listening, and watching…he’s young. He’s reckless, and curious, and he gets himself into trouble easily. You don’t…you can’t hear him from anywhere in the world. If you get separated, if he wanders off after a villain, if he gets kidnapped…I’ll find him faster.”

Bruce sighed. “Keep your ears open, then,” he said. “But stay out of Gotham…at least until we call you. Give him space to fly. And trust me to take care of him…like you trusted strangers.”

Clark nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ll trust you…but if anything happens…anything at all…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Bruce said, and Clark had to be content.

*

He didn’t get a chance to work with Robin until almost a year later. An alien monster—too large for Bruce, too dangerous for Dick—was attacking Gotham. Clark could hear the reluctance in Bruce’s voice, but he heard it nonetheless.

“Clark, we need you.”

And he was there, hitting the alien, flying in counterpoint to Robin to hit every vulnerable point at once. It didn’t take long before the monster was subdued and Superman and Robin were flying it back into space together. They didn’t speak as they went, merely tossed it back in the direction it came from and returned to Earth.

“All under control,” Clark said.

Bruce nodded. “Thank you, Superman,” he said. “And thank you, Robin.”

Dick beamed under the praise and Clark couldn’t help but smile. “It was my pleasure,” he said.

Dick looked at him, head cocked a little. Finally, he said, “You should come have dinner with us.”

Clark blinked. “I…I didn’t think you wanted me,” he mumbled.

Bruce was standing stock-still, watching. Dick plowed on. “You saved Gotham,” he said. “And…” He hesitated. “And I want to hear why from you directly.”

Clark knew what “why” Dick wanted to hear about. But now that a year had passed, now that Dicky was willing to listen…

“All right,” Clark said. “If it’s okay with Batman.”

Bruce sighed. “I suppose it will have to be.”

*

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Clark and Bruce hasn’t spent more than a few minutes together since they had broken up all those years ago, unless they were fighting crime. Clark had no idea what he was supposed to say, what justification he could offer for his actions.

But there was Dicky, cheerful and energetic, talking at a million miles a minute, asking question after question about Kryptonians. Clark did his best to answer, explaining about his powers and growing up on Earth. They didn’t even get to the question Dick wanted to ask until the meal was finished and they had moved back to the parlor.

“Why did you leave me?” Dick asked. He didn’t sound angry, or sad, merely curious.

Clark took a deep breath. “A number of reasons,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d make a good father to you…I was very young at the time and didn’t know anything about children. And…and being Superman makes my life very difficult and hectic. I didn’t want you to be in danger by association, and I didn’t want to have to leave you alone while I was out fighting crime, and even if you do have all my powers, I don’t think a battle field would have been a good place for someone I could still hold in one hand.” He glanced at Bruce. “I don’t know if it’s best for someone I could still hold in one arm, but that’s not my decision. And you have done very well so far.”

Dick smiled a little before he turned serious again. “I don’t think I understand,” he said. “Did you know my parents before you gave me to them?”

“No,” Clark said. “But I could hear them…and they were good. And I kept an ear open…I went to Haley’s whenever it was in town…I could see that they loved you, and that you were happy. And…and I was glad about that.”

Dick nodded. “I liked it there,” he said. “But I like it here, too…I like being Robin.” He glanced at Bruce. “And I think I’d like to have both my fathers in my life.”

Clark and Bruce looked at each other for a moment. “I’d like that, too,” Clark said. “If that’s what you want.”

“I think it would be beneficial,” Bruce said. “You’re the only two Kryptonians on Earth…you could probably help each other with the…less human aspects of your natures.”

Dick beamed. “Can I hug you?” he asked.

Clark nodded and Dick threw his arms around him and Clark held him back and tried not to cry at holding his baby in his arms again.

He didn’t succeed.

*

After that, it got easier. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, but it was definitely better.

Dick still patrolled as Robin on the weekends, learning to fight without his powers. He attended school at Gotham Academy, expensive and private and good for him. He made friends easily, his sunny nature endearing him to almost everyone.

But now Bruce and Clark had an agreement. While the nights were spent patrolling with Batman, Dick’s weekend days and a few afternoons were spent with Clark, learning to control his powers, helping with threats to Metropolis. Clark was thrilled to have him some of the time, was glad to tell Dick everything he could about Krypton and being Superman. And sometimes, when he dropped Dick off, he would be pulled inside the manor, to spend long evenings with Bruce and Dick, evenings that got less awkward as time went on. And sometimes, when Dick had had a long day at school and lessons and patrol, he went off to bed early, leaving Bruce and Clark to sit in the parlor together and discuss Dick’s progress alone—they knew he could hear them, but they could at least pretend.

As time went on, it wasn’t just Dick that kept them talking. They would still discuss his progress, adjust their custody schedule, but there were other things now—the Justice League that was forming around them, imminent threats to their cities that the other should be alerted to, personal issues that might impede their parenting…

And some personal things that didn’t.

It was months before Clark realized what was happening. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to even consider the idea. After all, the five weeks at Gotham University had been the best and worst of his life—he wasn’t sure he could stand that kind of emotional roller-coaster again. Even though it had been more than ten years since then, even though he was spending more and more time with Bruce…Clark didn’t think he could stand the heartbreak of attempting another relationship with him.

And yet…

When he and Bruce sipped brandy in the parlor, Dick safely asleep upstairs, discussing their son and his accomplishments, their team and the issues they needed to face together, Clark felt more at ease than he’d ever been. Wayne Manor was starting to feel like home, and as he watched Brue learn to smile, as he watched him with Dick, Clark found himself falling in love with Bruce all over again. After all, they had both changed in the last ten years. Bruce was still emotionally distant, but having Dick there, ever curious and empathetic, had started to open him up a bit more. And Clark didn’t have room to talk about being distant—the last ten years had shown him that there were times when he simply couldn’t let anyone in.

He wondered, sometimes, if perhaps he should have been more patient all those years ago. If they both should have tried harder to make the relationship work. If they hadn’t broken up before Clark had known he was pregnant…could they have made something work? Could they have formed a happy family, him and Bruce and Dicky?

He didn’t know if they could have, or if the differences between them would have torn them apart and left Dick in the middle. In a way, Clark was grateful—at least this way, there was no expectation for them to make a romance work.

But he couldn’t help but imagine what could have been.

If his feelings were shared, Bruce didn’t mention it. Dick would occasionally glance between them with a hopeful look on his face, but it isn’t until several months into the new arrangement that he spoke up.

“Why did you and Bruce break up?” he asked one sunny Saturday as he and Clark sat on the roof of the Daily Planet, scanning for any threats.

Clark sighed. “Long story short, we had different expectations for a relationship,” he said. “We were eighteen years old…we didn’t know anything about love or commitment. All I knew was that I wanted to save Bruce, and he didn’t want to be saved. And I kept pushing him to let me help, and he pushed back, and…well, in the end, we realized that neither of us was happy in the relationship, so we ended it.”

“And then when you found out about me…”

“I didn’t want him to feel obligated,” Clark said. “And I didn’t want to push him to be in a relationship again…that wouldn’t have been fair to you, or me. Maybe the solution I came up with wasn’t the best, but…”

Dick nodded. “And what about now?” he asked.

“What about now?”

“I mean…you still like him, don’t you?” Dick looked at him with his huge blue eyes and Clark suddenly remembered just how young his son was. “Now that you’re both grown-up…”

“It’s not that simple,” Clark said gently. “Yes, I like Bruce. And I care about him, and I’m really happy we have you…but I think we’re better off just being friends.” He looked Dick straight in the eye. “And I want you to understand…whatever happens with me and Bruce, we’re always going to love you just the same.”

Dick nodded. “I know,” he said. “Just…it’d be nice,” he mumbled.

Clark pulled Dick into a hug. “I know,” he said. “But right now…right now, I think this is what we can handle.” He pulled back. “I’m going to have a talk with Bruce…see if I can take you to the Fortress of Solitude this summer. It’ll be dark there, but I think it’d be good for you to learn more about Krypton, and I don’t want you to miss any school.”

Dick smiled. “I’d like that,” he said. “Even if it’s dark…how long?”

“At your intelligence level, maybe a couple of weeks,” Clark said. “No more than a month…I know Bruce wouldn’t like it if you were gone for too long.”

*

Bruce approved of the trip to Antarctica, giving a time frame of three weeks in June, before the winter was too dark and cold. Both Clark and Dick explained that they would be fine, the Fortress had plenty of artificial sunlight and they wouldn’t go out too much, but Bruce was adamant. Alfred fussed a bit, and made sure to pack enough coats for Dick to go outside if he really wanted to, and Clark couldn’t help but laugh, even though he was secretly pleased.

They went just after Dick was released from school for the summer, flying high with Dick’s bag flung over Clark’s shoulder, pushing past whatever weather they encountered until the finally landed in front of the Fortress.

Dick looked at it in wide-eyed awed. Clark couldn’t help but smile at him. “Like it?”

“I love it,” Dick breathed.

“Come on,” Clark said, and he took Dick back inside to his birthplace. As they walked through the halls, Clark couldn’t help but ask, “Do you remember it?”

“Parts of it,” Dick said. “But not much.”

“Well, let me give you a full tour,” Clark said.

The first few days were spent showing Dick everything in the Fortress. There were some ground rules about where Dick could and couldn’t be unsupervised, but Dick was so eager to see everything, so curious about the sanctuary Clark had built in the ice. It was amusing to watch Dick run about, getting his nose into everything, asking every question that came to mind. Clark answer patiently, and soon Dick was as settled into the Fortress as could be expected.

That was when Clark gave him the computer files.

And Dick devoured all of them at alarming speed, learning everything about Krypton that Clark had. It was surprising that he was able to sit still long enough to read through it all, but Clark was quickly learning that Dick’s intelligence was beyond his own, that he was able to learn everything much faster and more effectively than Clark ever could. Dick spent his days studying everything that had been sent from Krypton; in the evenings, he asked questions, posed theories, and sometimes Clark was barely able to keep up.

By the time they left the Fortress to return to Gotham, Clark was sure that Dick knew more about Krypton than he himself ever would. And as he looked at Dick, flying next to him, Clark couldn’t imagine any prouder feeling than that.

*

The summer passed, Dick spending long nights in Gotham and longer days in Metropolis. Clark and Bruce did their best to keep up with him, always studiously avoiding any real talk about…whatever they were. Clark was sure it was more than friends or superhero partners, but it wasn’t quite back to the level of lovers yet. He supposed the best word for it was “co-parents,” though that felt a bit impersonal for what he was feeling.

It was just…Bruce was so good with Dick. So much happier now that there was a child in his life, a sunny, loving child at that. As a superhero team, Batman and Robin worked well together. Bruce was more relaxed, more open than Clark could ever remember him being. The long evenings Clark spent in the Wayne parlor were more personal, both of them confessing their fears about parenting, their concerns about Dick. And while he never said it, Clark could hear Bruce’s other fears under the surface, could see just how lost and broken his…whatever-Bruce-was really was.

All in all, it was nice. Clark was happy, happier than he’d been in a long time, with Bruce and Dick beside him, Dick learning and growing so quickly. Sure, there were villains to fight, monsters to face, but that was who they were. That was what they did.

August showed a sharp increase in activity. Lex Luthor and the Joker were both making moves against the heroes, though their master plans hadn’t come to light just yet. More often than not, Gotham and Metropolis were under such a state of chaos that it was difficult to know who was needed where. They worked out a system, though, for when both cities were under attack. Bruce and Clark would stay in their respective areas, and Dick would fly back and forth as a messenger, helping wherever he was most needed.

They should have known it would go wrong.

The robots were huge, and fast, and almost as powerful as Clark was. That wouldn’t have been a bad thing, but there were so many of them—clearly Luthor had been extremely busy.

“Sending Robin to you,” he heard Bruce say. Clark smiled and kept going, knowing that with Robin’s help, they would easily finish this.

He listened as Robin flew over, heard his laugh, heard him hit a robot…

And then he heard Robin scream before he fell silent, his heart rate suddenly very slow. Clark turned quickly, intent on getting to his son and seeing what had happened, but the number of robots between him and Dick was too high, they were all fighting too hard…

By the time he broke through the line, he couldn’t hear Dick’s heartbeat anymore. Fear took him as he flew over Metropolis, looking for him…praying…

Dick wasn’t in Metropolis. Clark flew towards Gotham, searching every inch between the cities for any sign of Dick, but no bright blur of red and green caught his eye. He didn’t stop until he’d reached the manor. Perhaps Dick had been rescued, taken back to the lead-lined Batcave where Clark couldn’t detect him…

Bruce was down there, alone. He turned as Clark came in. “All taken care of?” he asked before his brow furrowed. “Where’s Dick?”

“I dunno,” Clark said, his accent lapsing as fear and guilt clawed up his chest. “He was on his way, and then I heard him scream and then…I’m sorry, Bruce, I’m so sorry, there were too many of ‘em, I dunno…”

Bruce had gone sheet white. “His heartbeat…you can hear…”

Clark shook his head. “I cain’t detect him,” he said. “I looked fer him, in Metropolis and Gotham and in between…I didn’t find a body…” He looked at Bruce, the tears starting to fall. “There’s a chance he’s alive…jist somewhere I cain’t hear him…”

Bruce stared for a moment before he surged forward, throwing himself on Clark’s shoulder. They held each other, tears soaking each other’s uniforms as they cried for their son.

After a few minutes, Bruce pulled away, a new determination on his face. “We will find him,” he promised, his hands on Clark’s arms. “No matter what else happens, we will get him back, alive and healthy.”

Clark nodded, even though part of him didn’t believe it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everythin’…I don’t think I ever told you…”

“I know,” Bruce said. “And…I don’t think I can ever forgive what you did before…but this last year…having him back with us…it’s been wonderful. And…” Bruce hesitated. “If nothing else…I’m really glad I have you back, too.”

“Bruce…”

“I mean it…I don’t think I even knew how much I missed you until we had him.” Their eyes met and Clark was shocked Bruce was still crying. “I keep thinking…we should be a proper family…you and me and Dicky…we owe him that…a stable home, with parents who love each other…”

“And we’ll give him that,” Clark said. “I promise…I’ve missed you, too…watchin’ you and him…I realized that…I misjudged you all those years ago…if I could do it all again…”

“I know.” Bruce took a breath. “But right now…we need to find our son. Once we’ve got him back, we can figure out the rest.”

Clark nodded. “So how do we find him?” he asked. “If Luthor or the Joker nabbed him, they’ll have him somewhere I cain’t trace with my powers.”

“If Luthor or the Joker got him, they’ll be making a demand soon,” Bruce said. “Robin is valuable as my sidekick, and they’ve probably figured out he’s your son…I don’t know if they’ve made the connection between all three of us, but we should work on the assumption they have just to be safe. They won’t just kill him outright…they’ll want to use him to get you and me, and then kill all three of us at once.”

“That ain’t much of a comfort,” Clark said.

“No, but it gives us time,” Bruce said. “If they make a demand for his life, they’ll give us a place to meet…we’ll be able to make a plan.”

“If they’re smart, and Luthor is, they won’t bring him to the meetin’ point,” Clark said. “So we’d have t’beat ‘em into submission and git a location outta ‘em.”

“They wouldn’t have him too far away,” Bruce said. “One of us can stall them while the other finds Dicky.”

“Too much of a risk,” Clark said. “If only one of us shows up to meet with ‘em, they’ll know we’re up to somethin’.”

“We can beat Joker and Luthor,” Bruce said. “But getting them to tell us where he is will be harder…you have anything to offer them?”

“Our lives, maybe,” Clark said. “But I don’t like that option much.”

“Neither do I,” Bruce said. “Only other thing I can think of is promising not to press charges if they just give him back safely…and I doubt they’d accept that.”

“Cain’t pay ‘em off, Luthor’s got enough money and Joker ain’t interested.”

“Can’t offer them power, we don’t have any.”

Clark huffed out a breath. “And all of this is assumin’ they grabbed Dicky to lure us out…who’s to say they won’t try and turn him into a weapon? Brainwash him and turn him against us…”

“It’s possible,” Bruce conceded. “But if they do, they’ll send him out eventually…and that gives us time to find him on our own.”

“So what do we do?” Clark asked. “Wait fer ‘em to make a demand, or start lookin’?”

“We start searching,” Bruce said. “You do a fly over…listen for anything at all, though they’ve probably accounted for your powers. I’ll see if the computer can pick anything up…they can’t have taken him too far.”

Clark nodded and set off, hoping he would spot something, anything, that would lead him to Dick.

 *

It only took a few hours for Luthor and the Joker to make their demand.

Part of Clark was glad about that—if Dick had been missing for much longer, Clark probably would have worried himself to exhaustion looking for him.

But the demand came, in the form of a public broadcast. Just the Joker, dragging Dick on screen with a knife to his throat, mask still thankfully in place. “My message is to the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel,” he said. “If you want your little Robin back, you’ll come face me…the docks, midnight. You will come and you will surrender, or else the Boy Wonder dies.” The Joker pressed the knife to Dick’s throat. “And this is covered in Kryptonite, so don’t think he’ll be safe from harm.”

The Joker laughed wildly and Clark wanted nothing more than to punch him. For the first time in his life, he felt true hatred. For the first time in his life, Clark wanted to use his powers, not to defend, but to kill.

He glanced at Bruce and saw the same expression. They looked at each other and they agreed—their lives didn’t matter. Their principles didn’t matter. All that mattered now was getting Dick home safely.

Bruce nodded once and that was all it took. Clark was dressed and out the door in seconds, flying toward the dock, ready to fight, or talk, or do whatever it took to save his son. He didn’t glance back—he knew Bruce would follow, knew Bruce was just as determined as he was. Even if tonight ended with both of them dead on the docks of Gotham, Dicky would be safe as long as they drew breath.

The docks were quiet—the meeting wasn’t set for another few minutes, enough time for Bruce to arrive. Clark didn’t land, but hovered above, watching, listening. Everything was quiet at this time of night.

A flicker of movement caught Clark’s eye. He moved toward it, trying to stay too far overhead to be seen.

There were men moving about, finding hiding places, plotting an ambush. Clark had no doubt in his mind that all of them were armed with some sort of Kryptonite. He stayed above them, watching as they set up. He spotted Luthor among them, whispering orders not to wait, but to shoot as soon as Batman and Superman arrived.

“What if they figure out it’s a trap?” one of the men whispered.

“They know it’s a trap,” Luthor answered. “But they’ll come for Robin.”

Clark didn’t wait any longer. He wouldn’t let Bruce walk into an ambush, and the only person who could tell him where Dick was was below him. He landed in the middle of the group and immediately punched the nearest man, knocking him out, and then he was fighting, dodging the bullets as best as he could and knocking down everyone who got near him. One of the bullets grazed his shoulder, the Kryptonite already burning, but he ignored it. It didn’t take long before every man except Luthor was on the ground.

Clark grabbed Luthor by the collar. “Where is he?” he growled, shocking himself with how much he sounded like Bruce.

“Oh, Superman,” Luthor said. “You think I’ll give him up that easily? If I don’t give the word that you’re dead in fifteen minutes, the Boy Wonder dies.” He managed to raise his gun to Clark’s chest. “So I suggest you put me down and die quietly…and don’t worry about Robin…he’ll be perfectly looked after…retaught, retrained…the perfect weapon for the new world order.”

Clark saw red, rage building in him, but he couldn’t move, trapped between letting his son be made evil, or letting his son die. But he knew, just as he knew all those years ago—Superman didn’t matter. Clark Kent did not matter.

Dick mattered. Dick was all that was important now. And if he didn’t fight for him…

Before Clark could do anything more, though, the Batmobile pulled up and Bruce was out the door in seconds, leaping on Luthor and dragging him away from Clark, getting him in a chokehold. “Where is he?” he growled, exactly as Clark had.

“You don’t expect me to tell you,” Luthor gasped.

Bruce tightened his hold. “You will take us to him,” he snarled. “And you will let him go, or else I will not hesitate to let Superman use his heat vision on you!”

Luthor glanced between them, clearly unsure if Bruce was bluffing. But even if Bruce was bluffing, Clark wasn’t. He let his eyes glow red, let the heat out, just a bit. Luthor suddenly looked nervous.

“All right,” he choked. “All right!”

Bruce loosened his hold just enough for Luthor to breathe and Clark pulled back the heat vision. “You will give the sign we’re dead,” Clark said. “And then you will take us to Robin.”

Luthor glared and produced a cell phone. He dialed very deliberately. “Code green,” he said. “Coming back.” He hung up and glared more. “If Batman would let me go, I will lead you to the place.”

Bruce let go, but Clark kept his eyes trained on Luthor as they walked down the docks. Luthor led them through a hidden door down into a basement, along several tunnels, and finally to a second door, where Clark had no doubt there was a lead-lined bunker.

Luthor gave them a look filled with venom as he unlocked the door. As soon as it was open, Bruce rushed past them, throwing his Batarangs to take out anyone still standing in the room. Clark shoved Luthor inside, but he was quickly distracted by the sight of Dick, tied to a chair and looking terrified. Clark knocked Luthor out with one hit and rushed to Dick’s side, untying him as quickly as possible while Bruce dealt with the remaining goons.

As soon as he was free, Dick fell into Clark’s arms, hugging him around the neck and sobbing harder than Clark had ever encountered. Clark clutched the trembling child close and cried as well, running his hand over Dick’s hair. “Thank God…” he whispered.

Bruce finished knocking out and ziptying everyone in the room and was with them at once, hugging Dick as well. Bruce and Clark wrapped both of their capes around Dick and all three hung onto each other, all crying.

After a few minutes, Clark glanced at Bruce. “Joker?” he asked hoarsely.

“Escaped,” Bruce said. “Must have heard us coming.” He shifted slightly to look at Clark easier without letting go of Dick. “Police are on their way…we’d better go unless we want to answer a lot of uncomfortable questions…the video should be enough evidence.”

Clark nodded. “Robin,” he said gently. “Can you let go of us?”

“Don’t leave,” Dick begged, his tiny voice broken. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Clark said. “Never again…I’m never going to leave again.” He hugged Dick tighter for a moment before he looked at Bruce. “I guess I’m going to take us all home.”

Bruce nodded. “And I suppose you’d better stay,” he said.

Clark almost smiled as he picked Dick up in his arms. They slipped out of the bunker before Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck from behind. Clark made sure everyone was secure before he flew off towards the manor.

*

It took time, of course, for their fractured and hurting family to heal. But heal they did, surely if not completely steadily.

Dick was a little bit quieter in the months following, as though the danger of being the son of Batman and Superman had just hit him, but he came out of his shell in time, laughed again, asked endless questions again, became the ray of sunshine in the darkness of Wayne manor again.

Clark had to admit, it probably helped that he and Bruce were definitely back together.

They hadn’t even really talked about it until almost a month after they had rescued Dick. Clark hadn’t left the manor since then, though he and Bruce kept separate rooms, at least for now. But there was definitely something there, some agreement that they would face the world together, as partners in everything. It was a promise Clark was eager to keep.

But once the dust had settled, one night in the parlor when Dick was asleep or at least out of the room, Bruce turned to Clark.

“So…what you said about being a family…”

“I mean it,” Clark said. “If you want…I’d like to stay. I’d like to raise Dick with you. I’d like to take care of you…grow old with you. I want to help keep this house from being so big and empty and silent. I’d like to help you protect Gotham. And if you’ll have me…I’d like to love you again, like I should have before.”

Bruce nodded. “I’d like that, too,” he said. “I’d like to open up to you…I’d like to take care of you in return. I’d like to spend my life with you and Dick. I’d like to give him parents who won’t leave him…parents who won’t die before he can face it.” He took Clark’s hand. “And I’d like to love you just as much.”

Clark smiled and they kissed briefly before sitting back, both quiet, though their hands stayed together.

After a while, Bruce cleared his throat. “So…we produced a pretty good kid,” he said.

“We did,” Clark said softly. “Though…Jon and Mary produced more of him than we did.”

“True,” Bruce said. “I wonder…if…would we ever have another one? One that we raised, like we should have the first time?”

Clark stared at the fire for a moment. “Maybe one day,” he said. “In a few years…I don’t…let’s not rush things…I don’t want Dicky to feel like we’re replacing him or anything.”

Bruce nodded. “He won’t,” he said. “We’ll wait until we’re all ready…just…in the future…"

“In the future,” Clark said. “And maybe this time…we’ll do better.”

Bruce nodded and they fell silent once again, peaceful in their own home, with their own family.


End file.
